


Saccharine

by Rovelae



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Angst, Dreams, Hanahaki Disease, Hope's Peak Academy AU, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:53:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27655081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rovelae/pseuds/Rovelae
Summary: How long has it been now? How many days of darting out of class to cough his lungs out in the bathroom until blackness spots over his vision? How many nights of spitting out vibrant violet carnations, only to feel new ones bloom in his chest moments later?How many times has he swiped the blood from the corners of his mouth and promised himself,today, today I’ll tell him?
Relationships: Ouma Kokichi/Saihara Shuichi
Comments: 16
Kudos: 184





	Saccharine

**Author's Note:**

> People were upset about what I did with ["Bittersweet"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21237110), so here’s Pining Shuichi to balance it out. :)

“Hey, Mr. Detective?” Kokichi twirls a lock of Shuichi’s hair at the side of his face. “Play a game with me?”

“Anything you want,” Shuichi breathes. Kokichi’s eyes are so beautiful, dark like the night sky—and every time Shuichi looks into them he feels like he’s falling, falling, falling.

Kokichi nudges their foreheads together and—ah, they’re so close, it would be so easy to just lean forward and— “Truth or dare?” he murmurs.

“Truth,” Shuichi says. He can never lie to Kokichi, anyway.

Kokichi’s fingers tuck his hair back, and Shuichi subconsciously leans into his touch. “Do you love me?”

Shuichi flinches.

_No. Anything but that._

He closes his eyes as hot tears roll down his cheeks. “D-dare,” he says. “I changed my mind—dare.”

“That’s cheating,” Kokichi says with a soft chuckle. Shuichi bites his lip and swallows a sob.

Kokichi’s hands caress his face, brushing away the tears, tipping his head upward. Shuichi opens his eyes again and—and he’s never seen this expression on Kokichi’s face. No one’s ever looked at him like this before, so soft, fond, adoring.

“I dare you to kiss me,” Kokichi breathes.

His lips have hardly formed the words before Shuichi presses his own against them, and it’s awkward and fumbling and nervous and then it’s sweet and soft and _perfect._

Kokichi’s hand circles around to the back of his neck, tugging lightly at his hair, and the other traces along his jaw, just—holding him, like he wants this just as badly, like he wants _Shuichi,_ and Shuichi can feel him smiling against his mouth, feel his breath and his warmth and before he knows it he’s wrapping his arms around him and holding him as tightly as he dares.

And for a moment, he lets himself believe that this could ever be real. 

“I love you,” he whispers without meaning to when Kokichi pulls away to breathe.

Kokichi’s dusky eyes crinkle when he smiles. “I love you, too.”

Shuichi’s jolted awake all too suddenly when something prods his cheek. He blinks open his eyes, grimacing when he registers the headache throbbing through his brain, but… Kokichi’s still there in front of him, staring at him quizzically, chin propped up on his hand—and poking Shuichi with a pencil.

“Falling asleep in class is Himiko’s schtick,” Kokichi observes, then brightens abruptly. “Are you trying to assume her identity, Shuichi?”

Shuichi blinks again, uncomprehending. Is he still dreaming?

“Are you going to commit a war crime and pin it on her? Then liquidize her assets and run away with the blood money to Bolivia to live out the rest of your life in luxury? Wait, Himiko doesn’t have any assets….”

Kokichi’s talking much too quickly and much too loudly for Shuichi to process well enough to respond, so he just sits up, rubbing his eyes. He’s in his classroom, he realizes with some chagrin, and he and Kokichi are some of the last people here. “What time is it?” he croaks, and winces—his throat is parched and raw, and when he tries to clear it a metallic taste springs up on the back of his tongue.

“School just got out,” Kokichi replies, still poking the pencil’s eraser into Shuichi’s cheek. “Y’know, if you wanna do crimes, you should totally join my secret evil organization, Shuichi! You can steal all the identities you want, and I’ll teach you how to get into government buildings through the air vents and steal all the ink cartridges from the printers!”

Shuichi moves his head away in a vain attempt to escape Kokichi’s pestering, looking down at the open notebook he’d apparently been using as a pillow. “I-is Yukizome-sensei still here? I should apologize….”

“She actually ran out of the room in tears,” Kokichi says. “She was so upset when she saw you that she—hey, hey! Sit down, it’s okay, I’m lying.”

Shuichi groans and slumps back into his chair—which, from the way his head’s started swimming, he probably would have ended up doing to begin with.

“Don’t get maaad,” Kokichi pouts. “She noticed, but she smiled, so I’m guessing she was just glad you were getting some rest. Sleeping off that nasty cold, you know.”

“Ah… yeah.” As if on cue, the itch in his lungs flares up again, and his chest clenches on reflex, both to hold in the coughing and because the reminder stings.

How long has it been now? How many days of darting out of class to cough his lungs out in the bathroom until blackness spots over his vision? How many nights of spitting out vibrant violet carnations, only to feel new ones bloom in his chest moments later?

How many times has he swiped the blood from the corners of his mouth and promised himself, _today, today I’ll tell him?_

Well… Kokichi _is_ right here in front of him. And they’re alone, and he doesn’t seem to be in a hurry to leave….

These aren’t exactly the circumstances he’d choose for a heartfelt confession, but he’s certainly rehearsed it enough times.

“Kokichi,” he begins, at the exact same time Kokichi starts off with a “So, um….”

They both pause, glance up at each other, and laugh awkwardly.

“Go ahead,” Shuichi relents, but Kokichi shakes his head, clearing his throat into his scarf.

“No, you. It’s fine.”

But there’s no way Shuichi can bring himself to say what he wanted to now. He coughs lightly off to the side—his chest _stings_ in protest and he can tell there’s a massive fit coming on soon—and he lies.

“I, ah, just—thanks. For, um… for waking me up, and….”

It’s … weak. But after a pause, Kokichi shrugs and seems to buy it for the time being.

“Well, I’m not about to just _leave_ you here,” he says. “Did you know the janitors are actually part of a cult of bloodthirsty cannibals? If my beloved detective stays in the main building too long after classes end, I’ll never get to see him again!”

Shuichi opens his mouth to respond, but the coughing fit gets there first. He doubles over and covers his mouth with both hands—it’s a _bad one,_ he can already taste the blood, feel the petals slick on his tongue—not in front of Kokichi, _please,_ don’t let him pass out in front of Kokichi—

Kokichi, who he can feel at his side, his hand on his back. “Easy, easy,” he murmurs. “Slow down and try not to gasp. You’re okay, you’ll be fine.”

Shuichi’s eyes blur with tears. He’s not sure if Kokichi’s presence is making things better or worse, but he never wants him to leave. Kokichi can be so _gentle_ sometimes, so _careful,_ and sometimes when his voice gets all soft like this Shuichi just wants to tell him how lovely and kind and _amazing_ he is, tell him….

_I love you, I love you, I love you so much._

When he can breathe again, there’s a full carnation in his hand, sticky with blood. His heartbeat skyrockets when he realizes he has no idea how to play this off, but Kokichi comes to his rescue again. “That’s definitely gotten worse. Hold on, I think I have water in my backpack.”

He turns away, long enough for Shuichi to clench his fist over the flower and wipe the blood from his hands on the slacks of his uniform. It’s gross, but it’s dark enough to hide it, he reflects as Kokichi twists the cap off of a water bottle and hands it to him.

“Thank you,” he manages and _wow,_ he’s thirstier than he realized, gulping it down like he’s spent the last few days lost in the desert.

Kokichi _tsks._ “Dehydrated, too, beloved? You should definitely take tomorrow off. Take care of yourself, for crying out loud.”

“Mmm,” Shuichi agrees. A day off sounds … really great right now. And maybe if he’s lucky, he’ll sleep well enough to have another dream, and….

A sharp pang of loneliness rushes through his heart as he sets the water bottle down. If only he was as charismatic and self-assured as Kokichi. If only he didn’t second-guess himself all the time, if only he wasn’t as stupidly shy. Then he’d have no problem telling Kokichi what he wants to.

Kokichi, who isn’t scared of anything. Kokichi, untouchable, with his brilliant smiles and fierce intellect and games woven into his every word. _You’re so incredible,_ he’d say, if ever there was a chance Kokichi could possibly return his feelings. _I adore you. You’re all I can think about and I just want to be with you._

“Boop.” Kokichi’s index finger touches his nose, and that’s when Shuichi realizes he’s been staring. He looks down with a mumbled apology, face reddening.

“Kinda loopy, aren’t you?” Kokichi tips his head to the side. “Do you want me to walk you back to your room?”

He shakes his head. “I’m… I’ll be fine. Sorry.”

“Are you doing okay?” Kokichi asks quietly. “And I don’t mean physically.”

Shuichi risks a glance back up at him. No, no, he’s not, and just the question alone is enough to make his eyes start to water.

“It’s fine if you want to be alone. But, um.” Kokichi swallows hard, pulling on his scarf. “It’s also fine if you need someone to… I don’t know, watch dumb cat videos with you or whatever. I mean, we could do that, or… or read a book, or something. If you want.”

And Shuichi’s staring again, because this is one of those rare, golden moments when Kokichi’s just … just so _nice,_ in a way no one else seems to realize. No lies, no grandiose supervillain persona to uphold. Just … Kokichi.

Kokichi glances away, pulling his scarf up to cover his mouth—or to cover the light pink tint in his cheeks. “You, ah, you already have my number, so… so let me know if….” He coughs again, standing up jerkily. Is he getting sick? “Yeah. Um. I need to… go bother Miu or something. See you later.”

“S-see you later,” Shuichi echoes, deflating. Why can’t he ever say what he wants to? “Thank you, Kokichi.”

Kokichi pauses at the doorway, shooting him a soft glance. “Get some sleep tonight, Shuichi,” he says in farewell.

_I’ll dream about you,_ Shuichi wants to tell him.

He looks down at the crushed, bloody carnation in his hand and watches a few tears fall onto the petals.

_I always do._

**Author's Note:**

> Someone lock these two idiots in a closet until they talk to each other, please.
> 
> (If I ever have an idea for it, I’ll maybe see about writing a happy resolution?)


End file.
